Waiting
by Jillian1
Summary: During the three month gap in DeadAlive, Scully muses over what she and everyone else believes to be Mulder's death. Inspired by a song, but it's not a songfic.


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TITLE: Waiting

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AUTHOR: Jillian

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CATEGORY: Angst, MSR

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RATING: PG

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SUMMARY: During the three month gap in DeadAlive, Scully muses over what she and everyone else believes to be Mulder's death. Inspired by a song, but not a songfic.

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FEEDBACK: What do you think? Of course! Drop me and email at JILLIBEAN@aol.com, I'm always willing to chat about fanfic, it takes my mind off of finals.

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TIMEFRAME: During the three month gap in DeadAlive.

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DISCLAIMER: For the hell of it, I *DO* own Mulder and Scully! Yes, that's right, I said! Copyright infringement INTENDED! I am making MAJOR profit off of this! What are ya gunna do about it, Chris? Sue me? ::meekly:: just kidding...

I also do not own the song lyrics included at the end. It's "Sonny", written and performed by New Found Glory. It's off the Sticks and Stones CD, and is awesome like all of their other stuff. Go out and buy it! Oh, and I used it without permission. 

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AUTHORS **NOTES**: This story was inspired by "Sonny", a song by New Found Glory. Although it is not a song fic, I have included the song in the end, because it goes very well with the story. This story is written during the time Mulder is "dead", and it's how I see Scully dealing (or not dealing) with it. Let me know what you think of it. Oh, and my case-less fluff skiing story will be up very soon. I promise! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

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* * * * * * 

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to die like this. Not now. I wasn't supposed to be there, to see him laying on the ground... Every time I close my eyes I see his cold, lifeless body... All of the passion gone, replaced with the nothingness that is death. It's still setting in. He's dead. He's not coming back. Ever.

How am I ever supposed to smile again? I can't even fathom being happy without him. I mean, I've done without him for a few months now, but he wasn't dead. I was just waiting. I would wait forever. Now, there's nothing to wait for. He's gone. For good. He'll never walk through the door to my apartment with a bag of Chinese food and a six pack of beer again. I'll never get another chance to lay in his arms, to feel him with me. I'll never get another chance to tell him I love him.

I watch as the crowd at the funeral disperses. It isn't fair. It's not right. He died--for what? The truth? What truth? Did he ever find it? Did he die knowing, did he die happy? It's cold, and I shove my hands in my pockets. I'm standing alone now, everyone else has walked back to their cars. I've lost the only thing on earth I really needed. I would never see him again, not until all of my days boiled down. Not until I was in the same place he's in right now. I cry silently by his grave, and finally realize I'm shaking, trembling. Gathering up of all of my strength, I tear myself away from his final resting place. I look down at the footprints I leave in the snow, just a mere track mixed up with other footprints. Just another person stuck here without him.

I sit in the car, breathing deeply until I've composed myself enough to drive. I pull out of the cemetery, and look to the passenger seat. I was half-expecting to see him there, rambling about some crazy theory. If only I had appreciated those car rides, those simple conversations... If only I had knew they wouldn't be there forever... That one day, I'd be without him. I'm just thankful that he wasn't taken away from me until he knew how I truly felt.

He never knew I was pregnant. He never got the chance to learn that I'd been blessed... That we were going to have a son. That he made my dreams come true, he'd given me what I'd so desperately wanted, but could never have. Now he'll never get the chance to watch our child grow, to love him. 

In a way, I don't really believe that. I hope he's watching over me from heaven, smiling, and happy. I'm too selfish to be happy that he's gone to a better place, somewhere where he doesn't have to worry about the truth or aliens or anything at all. Someplace where the 'no smoking' signs are strictly enforced. Where there's no shadow government, only happiness. Only memories of our happiest times.

I arrive home later that evening, but it doesn't feel the same. I want to see him sitting on my couch, waiting. I want to feel him near me again. I miss everything about him--even the things that used to bother me. If he could just come back, I would let him get sunflower seeds all over the car. I'd let him pick the movie, even if he always picks _Caddyshack_. I'd let him throw pencils at the ceiling and waste his time. I'd even let him ditch me now and then. He could baby me and worry about me and not believe it when I say "I'm fine"... If he could just come back.

I walk out of my house, not knowing where to go. All I know is I feel like I can't stay there. I get in the car, and find myself driving to work. I impatiently tap my fingers at the red light, even though I have no reason to rush. I just want things to be the way the used to. I just want some kind of proof that not everything is gone. I walk the familiar path down the hallway, onto to the elevator. It's still the same amount of steps to the office, everything is still in place.

But nothing can ever be the same again. Not without him here. His desk has been kept exactly as he left it. I always thought he'd come back. Part of me didn't want to realize he was gone. I felt that he was coming right back, that there was no reason to mess around with his stuff. I watched it, guarded it with my life. I walk into the office, it's empty and dark. I flick on the light switch, and tears well in my eyes.

The empty chair is waiting for him to return. He never will. He'll never sit behind that desk again. I wipe my eye silently, and walk behind the desk. I sit down, and look around me. All of his things, I hadn't even really looked at them much since he left. I didn't want to pry--part of me thought he'd walk in and catch me. Now, however, I feel the need to be near him. To see, to cherish, what he's left behind. There's a picture of us together on the wall. I never really noticed it before, not in the mess of other things tacked up beside it. Now, it stands out to me above and beyond all the UFO newspaper clippings. I don't remember the picture being taken, but we're in the field, in the FBI jackets. It looks fairly recent, like it was taken just a few months before he went missing. I ache for those times. Gently, I take the picture down and place it in my pocket.

It was so brief, but for a while we were happy. We'd become lovers, finally admitting to each other what we already knew. All of our questions were answered. He had found out what happened to his sister. For once, nobody was missing, or sick, or in danger. What made that a million times better was waking up in his arms in the morning. Well, some mornings. We avoided it on weekdays, we never let it interfere with work. We had something truly beautiful. Work and love were separate things for us.

The only thing I was missing was a child. Now, he's not here to see what we created. He's *never* going to get to see our child. My mind drifts aimlessly, as I replay scenes of us together over and over in my mind. I sit in his chair, wishing to see him one last time. To tell him that he's given me the greatest gift I could've asked from him. Mulder has given me a child. He has given me a miracle. It took me several moments to pull myself from the thoughts of our times together, but when I finally did I realized I was sobbing. Trembling, crying, gripping the arms of his chair. 

I never imagined he would die this way. I always thought if he would die early, it would be at the hand of someone I could capture. Someone I could make sure paid for what they'd done. I always assumed if I ever lost him, it would be to some psychopath we were chasing, or to the Syndicate. But instead, what Mulder always searched for--these aliens--are what killed him. And nobody will ever believe his story, except for me. He has made me a believer. He has proved my science incorrect.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to get him out of my mind. Life after losing him doesn't seem worth it. My life is over. I'll continue here, yes, but I'll never be the same again. I'll always be empty. A part of me--the biggest, best part--left with him. He's got my heart. My soul. He has Dana Scully with him. With Mulder gone, I am just waiting out the rest of my days, wishing to be with him again. Wishing to be close to him, to be in his arms. It's too hard. I thought I could live without him, but I don't know how I'm going to do it. Nothing else seems to matter anymore. Nothing else even enters my mind.

Except the promise of our child. That's the one thread of hope I have left, the reason I keep fighting. If Mulder had left me *truly* alone, without the promise of this new life, I would give up. I know I would. I don't have it in me anymore, not without him. Our child, growing inside me, however, has instilled a new hope in me. A reason to fight. So I can raise him to be honest, passionate, intelligent, and even paranoid. So I can tell him about his father, about how beautiful a person he really was. So I can teach him to be himself, to do what's right, no matter what people think of you or say about you. It was Mulder's way of life, and it was the only way as far as I'm concerned.

I know if Mulder were here, he wouldn't want me to ever give up. So I'll keep fighting. For *him*. For our child. I wipe the tears from my eyes and rise from behind his desk. My hand grazes over the desk as I walk past it, trying to hold on a little longer. I force myself to walk away, to go home. It's late, and I should get to sleep. I turn around one last time in the doorway, and suddenly the office is no longer the same. It's not where I spent seven years of my life working with Mulder. It's so much... Emptier now.

I ignore the messages on my machine when I get home. I know they're from my mother, probably one from Skinner, or Doggett, or the Gunmen. Checking on me. Telling me it'll all be okay. Everything happens for a reason. I'm sick of hearing it. There was *no* reason he had to die. There was *no* reason he had to be taken away from me! Why couldn't we have this? Why couldn't we have each other? How come every time I think something is going right, it's snatched away? 

I place the picture I took from the office in the drawer of my night table, before laying in bed, fighting back the tears. I can't. I can't keep crying. I have to be strong. That's what Mulder would want, it's what he would expect. I have to get up in the morning, and pursue his search. I'm the only one left to look for the truth. I will find it. Not so much for me, but for him. So that he doesn't die in vain. So that *maybe*, somehow, his death can have meaning. 

The days pass plainly, with no excitement. Agent Doggett is a nice guy, and a great partner, but he isn't what I need. There's no Mulder to tease me, to throw innuendo back and forth with. There's no light-hearted banter, or crazy theories about UFOs. There's no one holding me when I wake up in the morning. I don't get to fall asleep staring into his eyes anymore. I fall asleep alone, clutching my blanket, thinking of him.

Every night I pray he'll visit me in my dreams. He never does. I always thought when he died, he'd still be with me. But he isn't. I don't know where he is. Sometimes I'll wake up in the morning feeling alone, and wonder when he'll come back to me. And then I realize he's gone forever. He doesn't even appear in my dreams, not like my father or Missy had years before... It makes me wonder where he is, his soul... Why it isn't with me. It makes me think sometimes, just for a second, that he'll be back again someday. 

I need him back. I know he never will be, but some part of me hopes that I'm wrong. That with another crazy UFO-type explanation, he'll be back. I need him. I love him. I want him to be with our child, to see him, to hold him, to love him. To love me. I sigh as yet another night goes by, while I toss and turn in my sleep. 

He's been gone--dead--for quite some time, near two months. It's set in now, he's *dead.* I had always hoped we'd grow old together. That years and years down the road, we'd escape the X-Files. We'd sit on a serene front porch, and watch the sunset. We'd still have our adventures--you can't avoid them when you're with Mulder. They'd dwindle down as our days would, though, and we'd grow old. We'd die happy, together. So that we wouldn't have to live without each other for even a second.

And here I am living without him for the rest of my life. How am I supposed to do that? I rest my hand on my stomach, now swollen with a child. Living life without him has been harder than I thought. The time passes quickly, mundanely, without smiles and without happiness. Doggett and I chase around mindless X-Files, busy work. It's nice of him to try and distract me, but I can't be distracted. Nothing takes him off of my mind. Nothing makes me stop wondering how long I'll have to wait to see him again... In the life after this one. Nothing makes me stop wishing he'd come back. Nothing.

I sigh into the empty bedroom, and close my eyes. I'm not tired, and take the picture of us out of my night table. I do this almost every night, the edges of the picture and bent from being handled so often. I close my eyes, savoring the happy moment in the photo, and put it away for another night. I think of the funeral, that day that's now many weeks ago, when I thought that I'd never survive. I haven't. I'm not the same person I was with him. The last thing Dana Scully remembers is walking out of the empty office, realizing part of her was gone. Now I'm just walking the earth, waiting. Waiting without intent, without purpose. Trying desperately to give his death meaning, but failing over and over again. I can't find a reason he had to be taken from me. I never will. So I just wait, until I'll see him again. I fall into another dreamless, empty slumber. Wishing he'd visit me there, but he never does. I don't know where his soul is, but it isn't with me. I'm empty. He took me with him.

I'll never stop waiting.

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I'm sorry.

I heard about the bad news today.

A crowd of people around you,

Telling you it's okay,

And everything happens for a reason.

When you lose a part of yourself to somebody you know,

It's takes a lot to let go.

Every breath that you remember,

Pictures fade away,

But memories forever.

An empty chair at all the tables,

And I'll be seeing you when all my days boil down

But it's better where you're going anyway

I'm sorry.

I heard about the bad news today.

It's really hard to get through

Tough times and long days,

But it really just depends on the season.

When you lose a part of yourself to somebody you know,

It's takes a lot to let go.

Every breath that you remember,

Pictures fade away,

But memories forever

An empty chair at all the tables,

And I'll be seeing you when all my days boil down.

For now we'll say goodbye,

We know it's not the last time...

I've lost the best part of my day.

This is the last thing I,

I will remember.

It's better where you're going anyway.

--New Found Glory, "Sonny"


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